They became cultivated, nurtured and developed into recipes and loved by Native Americans, yet they are claimed by other countries as their own.
We don’t want much, just a little respect. Is that too much to ask?
Case in point: polenta. The New York Times recently reported about this corn-based dish with a butternut addition. Both corn and squash originated here, not from "peasant Italian stock," nor did polenta come from Mary and Laura Ingalls moving West (into Indian territory).
The constant stirring and labor intensive preparation may have been an Italian innovation, yet I am sure Native cooks may have spent a lot of time ‘stirring’ their corn mush into lovely polenta.
So many foods of the Americas have been incorporated into the national cupboards of countries worldwide. I’ve been told that sweet potatoes are as important a crop in China as rice. All potatoes are global. Chocolate, tomatoes and coffee as well, the list goes on.
It has been estimated that as much as 75 percent of the world’s food originated in either North or South America. I am not asking for drum rolls, just some acknowledgement.
Children, especially, should be taught the origins of their food, and learn to grow and care for these plants for their own survival in the future. More importantly, they must learn sustainability and how to apply it to all life on earth before it is squandered. There are now several programs planned or in place for schools. Little by little, things move along, often at glacial speed. At least they are moving.
We, like all indigenous people, are still here and would like to remain so as long as possible. I like to hear about the origin of what I am eating and drinking: English tea, Caribbean rum, cheeses from Europe, tapas from Spain or Portugal, for example.
Can you imagine wild rice from the Great Lakes area of the Midwest and southern Canada being touted as Irish? Winona LaDuke would be on that before they knew what hit them!
The above is not a rant, just an observation that deserves some thought. It is said that the squeaky wheel gets the grease. Thank you for listening to my squeak.